


Transition

by GillianInOz



Category: Lewis - Fandom
Genre: Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, aphrodisiac, non consensual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:45:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GillianInOz/pseuds/GillianInOz
Summary: Lewis and Hathaway suffer through an ordeal when they are accidentally overdosed with a cocktail of synthetic party drugs. Now they have to live with the consequences, and come to terms with the dark desires released on one terrible night.





	Transition

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic - although I hope not gratuitous- descriptions of Lewis and Hathaway under the influence of an aphrodisiac. Warnings also for two rape victims seeking physical comfort with each other.

“How long is she gone for?”

“Five days.” Robbie deposited the shopping bags on James’s kitchen island. “I have steaks, snags and lamb chops.”

“How many people are you planning on feeding?”

“Eh? It’s not worth firing up the barby unless you’ve got a pile of meat to cook.”

James smirked at him. “The barby? Snags? You’ve been watching Crocodile Dundee again, haven’t you.”

“One of the greatest films ever made,” Robbie said cheerfully, unpacking the meat and folding up the paper bag.

“Remind me again why I spend time with you?” James said, peering doubtfully into the last bag. “What’s this?”

Robbie looked over his shoulder as he packed meat into the fridge. “Couple of little lasses were selling them outside the nick,” he said. “Girl guides.”

James lifted the cling wrap corner on the white cardboard box and swiped some frosting. “Don’t they usually sell cookies? Not brownies?” 

“Bake sale,” Robbie said, taking the box off him and stowing it on the top of the fridge. “It’s for charity.”

“Oh well, if it’s for charity,” James said. “I thought Laura had you on a diet. Ah,” he said, accepting a bottle of beer from Robbie. “That explains the meat and complete lack of salad in your shopping bags.”

“Hathaway, man,” Robbie said, making a sour face. “If I eat one more lettuce leaf I’ll turn into a salad.”

“So this weekend we’re cavemen? Red in tooth and claw?”

“Followed by chocolate brownies for afters,” Robbie confirmed with a wicked grin.

888

Afters wasn’t even thought about until the BBQ had grown cold and a vast quantity of meat had been consumed.

“I may never look a sausage in the face again,” James groaned, surreptitiously undoing the top button of his khaki slacks. 

“The chops were a bit tough,” Robbie said. “But the steaks were champion. Pays to buy quality.” He kicked off his shoes and sprawled back. “Cup of tea and one of those brownies, and I’ll be set for the night.”

“How can you think of food?” James said incredulously. 

Robbie fiddled with the remote control and settled back to watch John Wayne. “Give it an hour,” he said. “And if you don’t want any, then it’s more for me.”

888

There were six brownies, and in the end they had two each.

888

Robbie felt the room swim into focus around him. Somewhere he could hear a drum pounding, and he peered around looking for it. He was hot, the room seemed to be sweltering, and he pulled at the neck of his polo shirt.

“I’m thirsty,” he said. The shirt was tight at his throat, felt as if it were strangling him. With a curse he pulled at his waistband and tugged it over his head. 

“Robbie?” 

Robbie swung his head, locating James stretched out on the couch. His head was back and he was rubbing at his belly through his thin shirt. “James?” he managed.

“God,” James moaned, and Robbie watched blankly as James fumbled with his pants and unbuttoned his fly. He frowned a little as James pulled out his cock and began stroking it roughly. That wasn’t right, was it? 

“James?” he said thickly, trying to get to his feet. The room spun and he collapsed back, panting. James’s head swung round and Robbie dimly saw he was licking at his lips, his hand moving up and down his long, pale cock. “James?” Robbie said again, shivering as he felt his own prick harden in his pants. He was mesmerised by the sight of that long, pale hand as it moved up and down the shaft. James’s other hand stroked his cock’s wet head, and then lifted to his lips, his tongue darting out and tasting it.

The sight went right to Robbie’s prick and he forgot about getting to James, instead he stroked down his belly, surprised to find himself half naked. When had he taken his shirt off? His belt took a few tugs to loosen, but in a moment Robbie was pulling it right off and dropping it over the chair. He tugged down his zipper and found his rock hard cock. His hand felt cool against its burning heat and he sighed in pleasure as he wrapped his fingers around its thickness. Time passed in a haze as he stroked himself, one hand on his prick, the other plucking at his nipples.

“Robbie,” James said, and Robbie looked up to see James standing, swaying by lounge chair, his cock sticking up proudly, red and wet, his eyes fixed on Robbie’s prick. 

Robbie blinked sleepily as James unsteadily circled the low coffee table. It was scattered with glasses and crumbs, and Robbie licked his lips and tasted chocolate icing on the corner of his mouth. A long leg was moving over him and James straddled him, ass on Robbie’s thighs, their cocks instantly pressing together.

“Christ,” Robbie said as James immediately began rocking against him. His hands came up and caught narrow hips, fingers digging in. When had James taken his clothes off? 

Robbie dragged James closer and arched up, grunting as he fumbled to stroke the hard, leaking prick against his own. James flopped forward, his head buried in the crook of a Robbie’s neck, his chin digging ribbons of pain into his shoulder. The sensations combined were too much for Robbie, but still not enough, not what he needed. He gripped more tightly, forcing James against him, and the man in his arms cried out, tilting his head back. That long throat tempted Robbie and he pressed a suckling kiss against it, just as James reached down between them and caught their cocks in his long hand.

“That’s it,” Robbie said, licking at the sweat on James’s throat and attacking another spot on his neck.

“Robbie,” James moaned, his hand pumping their cocks together, against his belly, against Robbie’s. He erupted and the pumping warmth set Robbie off. He shuddered and spent, endlessly, arms wrapped tight around James’s waist.

888

When next he came to he was on his belly, and he rubbed his cheek against the rough carpet. “Whuh?” he mumbled. Hands were on his ass, something wet slid over his bum hole and he automatically clenched his cheeks. Fingers probed and he realised a tongue was stabbing against his anus. Just the thought sent a wave of rough desire through him, and he spread his legs, trying to angle his arse.

Someone spat and again a finger pushed against his pucker, broaching it this time. The pain registered, but so did the dark thrill of it. Robbie cried out, but again lifted his arse. “James,” he said dreamily. He felt himself pressed down as a long, lean body stretched out over him, and he shuddered as James’s cockhead pressed against his bum hole. 

James groaned, chest heaving against Robbie’s back as he collapsed on top of him. Robbie squirmed, feeling the burn as his prick rubbed on the carpet. 

“James,” Robbie said again, dreamily squirming as James’s cock nestled between the cheeks of his arse. “What’s happening?”

James was biting at his neck, his shoulders, his upper arms. Hard suckling kisses, teeth sending delicious chills through Robbie’s over heated brain.

“Wanna fuck,” James muttered. “Wanna fuck you.”

Robbie again angled his hips. “Fuck me,” he groaned, heat spiking through him. “Do it, do it.”

James groaned and reached down, his prick in his hand, rubbing the head against Robbie’s pucker and pushing. He pushed in an inch and Robbie arched, crying out in pain. He panted, but James pulled back, moaning in frustration. “Something’s wrong,” he said, and Robbie sank back down, his cheek on the carpet burning and raw.

“James,” Robbie moaned in confusion. 

“Something’s wrong,” James said, and he rolled off Robbie and onto the floor. “Robbie.” A strong hand took Robbie’s shoulder and shook it. “Wake up, Robbie, wake up. Something’s wrong.”

Robbie squinted, focusing on James’s flushed face. His forehead was wet with sweat and his eyes… Robbie blinked. His eyes looked wrong. Black, as if they were all pupil.

“Your eyes, Robbie,” James said, and Robbie was instantly confused. Was James reading his mind? “You’ve been drugged,” James said, his voice slurred. “We’ve both been drugged.”

“Drunk,” Robbie managed. “M’just drunk. I need me bed.”

That hand shook again, fingers like claws. “No, we need to call an ambulance, we need a phone.” Robbie lifted his head, pushing his shoulders up off the floor at the urgency in James’s voice. “Where’s my phone?” James said, pushing himself to his knees and heaving himself up.

Robbie’s world widened and he looked around the dim flat. The TV screen was just static, the lamps were all off but one by the door. He rolled onto his backside and winced. “My bum hurts,” he slurred. “Why am I on the floor?”

“My phone,” James said, and he stumbled, coming up hard against the wall. He clutched at it. “Christ, I can’t think.” 

Robbie thought about getting to his feet but couldn’t quite grasp the mechanics of it. He followed James on his hands and knees until he bumped against the couch, and just pulled himself up. “I’m naked,” he said, rubbing at his sticky prick. He moaned at the feel of his hand upon himself, and under his fingers he hardened. “Mmm,” he said, getting lost again as he stroked himself. He was swaying in place when he heard a crash from the bedroom, and for a moment lucidity once again intruded. “James?”

888

Robbie flopped back on the bed, staring at James, who was sitting against the wall with a drawer clutched to his chest. There was stuff on the floor but Robbie’s brain didn’t register it. He only knew the pressure in his cock was building, that he was hot and sweating again. He wanted, he needed, but all he had was his hand, and it didn’t seem to be enough as he pulled and tugged at his prick.

Something dropped on his belly and he squinted at the writing. “KY Jelly,” he muttered. “Oh good, pudding. Is there custard too?”

Hands prodded him and he rolled over, groaning at the cool sheets against his skin, his cock nestling against the softness. Wetness on his back passage, a finger pushing into him, sliding all the way now, in and out, a familiar rhythm that sparked a chord of pleasure in his gut. He lifted his hips and thrust back. 

Momentary stinging as the pressure increased. “Ow,” he moaned as he was stretched. Hands pulling his arse cheeks apart, then that cockhead again, broaching, pushing past the barrier. “Hurts,” he whimpered, but it was easing the ache in his gut, he could clench his hands and grit his teeth and ride out the pain as something long and thick pushed up into him. 

Hands gripped his hips, Robbie realised he was on his knees and he reached round and found his cock again, resting on one elbow, the crown of his head on the bed, his arse up, speared, taken. In and out, slapping against his balls, belly on his bum, thumbs spreading him wider, pushing the cock even further into him.

“Ahh!” he cried as a blinding pleasure swamped him. The prick was poking inside him, finding something, rubbing something, and Robbie thrust back and cursed, seeking that melting pleasure again. When he found it he rocked blissfully against the forceful thrusts, dreamily jerking his cock. He came, clenching down hard, squeezing the invader and wringing a cry from James as the cock jerked and spat inside him.

“James,” Robbie said as he collapsed back down, that long, lean body stretched over him, that long, lean cock still inside him. “It’s you, James.”

888

Robbie moaned as his cock was engulfed in wet heat. “Can’t,” he managed, even as it firmed up under the lips and tongue. A hand pumped and he sobbed as his prick filled, the blood rushing to his extremities and leaving him light headed. This was wrong, something was wrong. Time was wrong, these hands on him were wrong. He stung and itched and his belly was churning with desire but still there was a sense of wrongness about this.

“Stop,” he said, but the mouth sucked and sucked and finally, when he was rock hard, he opened his eyes and saw that James was once again straddling him. That he was holding Robbie’s prick and sinking down on it, engulfing it in his impossibly tight heat.

Bliss now, chasing away the sense of wrongness, filling the empty places in Robbie’s mind. James was biting his lip, tears ran down his cheeks, but he finally had all of Robbie’s cock inside him and Robbie’s hands automatically fumbled for his lean hips and held them.

“I need,” James panted. “I need.” He ground down again and then lifted back up, fucking himself on the thick shaft. His hands found Robbie’s shoulders and he panted into Robbie’s face, his eyes wide, pupils blown, face red. “I need, Robbie,” he groaned, and the sound of his voice and the raw pain within it fired Robbie anew. 

With a surge he rolled James onto his back, knelt between his spread legs and hauled his narrow ass onto strong muscular thighs. “You need this,” he gritted out, and James flung his arms out to the side, eyes rolling back in his head in pleasure as Robbie fucked him hard.

888

Robbie woke to the sound of puking, and the smell of vomit had bile erupting in his throat. He leaned over the side of the bed and gagged. He was dying, he was sure of it. His skin was tight and dry, his face burning, he heaved and again puked up a stream of vomit and bile.

“We need an ambulance,” James choked. “We’ve been drugged, poisoned.” Robbie coughed and spat, trying to make sense of the cacophony of sights and sounds and sensations flooding him. He hurt, he ached, his mind was a morass. Memories assailed him but they were fragments, unconnected with this present reality. “We need the phone,” James said again, and that one word clicked just as Robbie’s eyes fell on the bedside table.

And the phone on it.

“999,” he mumbled, reaching for the receiver. He punched the number in, sweaty fingers slipping on the buttons. “We need an ambulance,” he managed. 

“Sir? What is your address?”

“I don’t know,” Robbie said, the gorge rising in his throat again. “I’m Detective Inspector Robert Lewis. Call Superintendent Innocent. Tell her we’re at Hathaway’s flat. We’ve been poisoned, we need help.”

“Sir?” the voice squawked. “Stay on the line.”

But Robbie was throwing up again.

888

His fingers felt numb and Robbie groaned, trying to pull away. “It’s all right,” a soft, female voice said. “I’m just taking your blood pressure.” Robbie sighed and relaxed, tuning in to the low sounds of something beeping, the bag around his arm inflating and then deflating with a gentle hiss of air. “Just a small sting now,” the voice said, and then a pain in his arm.

Robbie blinked, forcing his eyelids up, even as the sting vanished and pressure replaced it. He focused on gloved hands taping a patch of gauze to the inside of his elbow and he frowned. “M’I in hobspital?” he said, and then grimaced. “Hospital.”

“Just relax,” the gentle voice said. He closed his eyes and obeyed the order.

888

The next time he awoke it was to a familiar scent, and he opened his eyes to see Jean Innocent sitting next to the bed, frowning down at a folder in her hand. “I like your perfume,” he said, and she jerked and stared at him.

“Robbie,” she said, closing the folder and smiling at him. “Good to see you awake again. A bit more lucid this time?”

Robbie licked at his lips. “Thirsty,” he said, and Innocent groped for a hand control attached to his bed, pressing a button. A chime sounded. 

“You’re okay, Robbie,” Innocent said reassuringly. “You’re in the Radcliffe Infirmary.”

Robbie frowned, processing this as a male nurse bustled over and started checking the machines next to him. “How are you feeling, Mr Lewis?” he said bracingly. “Do you need the bathroom?”

Innocent stood up and took a step back. “I’ll let you get settled and be back in a few minutes,” she said.

“Ma’am,” Robbie said, ignoring the nurse. “Hathaway. Is he all right?”

A frown flickered across her brow, but she nodded reassuringly. “He’s fine, he woke up some time ago, as it happens. He’s just in the next room, I’ll pop in and see him while you get settled.”

888

Robbie let the nurse fuss, used a bed pan and took a long, welcome drink. His stomach churned as the liquid hit it and he rubbed his belly.

_James stroked his cock roughly, his elegant fingers moving on the long, pale length_

Robbie gasped and the nurse peered at him. “Are you all right? Any pain?” Robbie stared at him, trying to make sense of the already fading image. “What?” He shook his head. “What the hell happened to me?” he asked, wondering why it was only just occurring to him to ask. 

The nurse patted his shoulder sympathetically and plumped the pillows up behind him. “Doctor will be along shortly to explain everything,” he said in his soft, West Indian accent. “Now, here’s your control. These arrows will sit you up higher, and this is the call button. Ok?” 

Robbie frowned down at the hand control as the nurse rushed away, trying to make sense of this. Had he been in an accident? He lifted a hand and felt his cheek gingerly, feeling the sore, rough patch of skin. In his car? At work? He shifted, feeling a low ache in his guts. He winced at the pain in his...

_something long and thick pushed up into him_

Christ. He swallowed, the water he’d just drunk churning in his belly. He hurt. He throbbed, down there. He wanted to cry, felt tears prickling his eyes, bit at his lip. Someone had… someone had raped him? Was that it? Was that what had happened?

_it’s you, James_

“James,” he whispered. And now the images cascaded into his brain. James on his lap, James on top of him, pushing into him. James’s hips held between Robbie’s hands, head thrown back as Robbie… “Christ,” he said again, through numb lips. He remembered. They’d both been raped, they’d raped each other. They’d been drugged, poisoned, insane with it. An aphrodisiac? LSD? 

Robbie covered his eyes with his hand, tears trickling down his cheeks, sobbing silently. 

“Oh, dear,” a dismayed voice said. “Oh Robbie.” The bed depressed and a hand touched his shoulder. Blindly he turned his face to the comfort, Jean Innocent’s pretty, floral scent in his nostrils. “It’s all right,” she said, patting his back maternally. “You’re safe, it’s all over.”

He pressed his face against the soft fabric of her jacket, trying to stem the tide of tears. “Sorry,” he gasped. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she soothed. “You’re all right. It’s a perfectly normal reaction. James is in a state as well.”

“James?” Robbie said, pulling back. “Is he okay?”

“Pretty much the same as you,” she said, pulling out a hanky and pressing it into his hand. “He says his memory is patchy, but a lot of it has come back to him.”

“Same with me,” Robbie confessed. “But I have no idea what actually happened. We were drugged?”

Innocent studied his face for a moment, then stood up and sat back in the chair by the bed. “The Oxfordshire police has suffered a significant attack,” she said grimly. “There were twenty four drugged items distributed, more than a dozen ingested, resulting in eight serious incidents involving police officers and staff from the station, including Tony, Sergeant Maddox’s husband.”

Robbie blinked, trying to absorb this. “Tony? Is he okay?”

“He’s in a bad way, but the doctors are hopeful. He had a severe allergic reaction to the first bite, which saved him and Maddox from ingesting too much.”

“Bite?” Robbie suddenly remembered. The little girls, the sign, the packages lined up on the wooden table. “The brownies?”

“Laced with chemical cocktails of synthetic drugs in high doses. So far, of the samples we’ve analysed, each has been different from the last. A kind of Russian roulette of drugs.”

“What the hell did we get?” Robbie said, his face hot. That triggered another memory, of burning, stripping his clothes off, James’s sweat dripping onto his skin as he rode him…

“Robbie?” Innocent was saying worriedly. “Maybe we should wait to go through all this.” 

Robbie rubbed his face, feeling the graze on his cheek again. He remembered the carpet under his face, James on top of him…

“No,” he ground out. “I need to know, all of it. Who did this to us?”

“I have three teams working on it. We’ve got CCTV of the girls, so we could trace everyone who bought the brownies. Our priority has been tracking them down before anyone else was poisoned.”

Robbie felt his mind clearing a little as he concentrated. “Eight you said? Eight serious incidents?”

“The girls sold two dozen boxes of brownies, all have been located. Only a third were laced with the synthetic drugs, the rest are what we used to call pot-brownies. But all are being tested to ascertain exactly what each of you were exposed to. You and James, Lizzie and Tony and…” She heaved a breath. “Alan Peterson and Julie Lockhart. You were the worst affected. We have several other cases where the brownies caused severe hallucinations and vomiting. Thank god no children ingested the substances, the doctors tell me a high enough dose of the synthetic drugs could have been lethal.”

“Julie?” Robbie said. “And Peterson? Are they all right?”

“Peterson is in a coma. Apparently Julie is on a diet and resisted eating a brownie, but Alan ate three. They were on a stakeout in a cottage at the edge of Wytham Woods.”

“Ma’am,” Robbie said, growing fearful at the grim expression on her face.

Jean lowered her voice. “Peterson went into some kind of disassociative state under the influence of the drugs. He beat and raped DC Lockhart,” she said starkly. “She was able to call for help when he passed out.”

“Dear god,” Robbie breathed, thinking of the bright, vivacious Julie Lockhart, who’d used to work with him and James when she was in uniform. She’d been so proud when she was promoted to DC.

“She’s in shock, but her injuries aren’t life threatening.” Her phone rang and she made a face, standing up and pulling it from her pocket. “Excuse me, I’m trying to keep on top of the investigation while dividing my time between you and James and Tony and Alan.” 

Robbie pressed his fingers to his eyes, fighting back more tears. He must be weaker than he thought, or maybe the drugs were still affecting him. So, at least he knew the worst, remembered most of what had happened. Now he had to deal with it. He thought of Tony, fighting for his life. And Peterson, still in a coma, yet to wake up to the memory of raping a junior officer. And poor Julie, violated by a colleague. Surely next to that he and James had got off lightly. 

And yet. They’d been violated too, both of them. Did it make it any better that they’d violated each other? Wasn’t that a kind of double violation? Wasn’t it worse? If James hadn’t been drugged, if Robbie had overpowered and assaulted him - raped him – it would have been a nightmare. But James at least wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge churning Robbie’s guts now. Of holding down his friend and…

888

Robbie dozed off and slept again before the doctors finally showed up, and he listened grimly as they drew the curtains around the bed and softly told him his condition. He was lucky, they said. No brain damage, no organ failure. He’d needed stitches for a torn rectum, and their description of his next few days while that healed wasn’t a pretty one.

Other than that, just bruises, bite marks, scratches and scrapes. A broad spectrum antibiotic was being administered via the drip, by tomorrow they could remove it and he could take his medication orally.

He asked about James, but other than confirming his condition was similar, they wouldn’t supply him with any details. Robbie determined to find out for himself.

“James is taking it hard,” Innocent said when she returned after dinner for a quick visit. “He seems to think he should have been able to fight the effects. I can’t get much out of him, he’s clammed up tight.”

Robbie could understand that, right now he could barely let himself think about what had been done to them. “Catholic guilt,” Robbie said wearily. “He always holds himself to a higher standard than anyone else.”

“If you could talk to him when you feel up to it,” Jean said tentatively. 

Robbie frowned at her. “Of course I will. This isn’t his fault, if anyone is to blame it’s me, I bought the brownies.” He looked around for his phone. “Has anyone called my daughter?”

“We tried, but she appears to be away on holidays?”

Memory returned and Robbie nodded. “Right, I forgot. Staying with her in-laws in Cornwall. Just as well.” He grimaced. “I’d rather she never find out the details of all this. I’ll phone her when she gets home, play the whole thing down.”

“Robbie,” Jean said sympathetically. “I can’t imagine how difficult this must be, for you, for all of you. To have your free will taken away from you, to be under the influence of whatever insidious cocktail of substances you were exposed to. But you know, you’re not to blame for this, right? No more than James or Tony or Alan.”

“How are they?” 

Jean studied his face worriedly, but only sighed. “Tony is awake and aware, thank god. His reaction was more allergic than to the substance itself.”

“And Peterson?”

“His kidneys are failing. It doesn’t look good.” 

“I was trying to convince myself that James and I got lucky,” Robbie said. “It wasn’t easy. But they tell me I won’t have any long term physical effects from this, so I guess there’s that.”

“Psychological effects will be unavoidable,” Jean said, studying him. “You know you’re not going to avoid department ordered therapy, don’t you?”

Robbie groaned. “Haven’t I suffered enough, man?”

888

Robbie waited until the nurse had finished taking more blood and his blood pressure before making his move. He tossed his covers back and twisted, grunting at the pain as his feet hit the floor. There was a robe in the chair and he reached for it and draped it over his shoulders, unable to slip his arm through while still attached to the IV. All the same, having it cover his hospital issued gown made him feel slightly less exposed.

He pushed up and stood, rocking a bit unsteadily, the ward spinning unpleasantly around him. His liquid dinner sat a bit uneasily in his belly, and he swallowed hard, not wanting to score his sore throat with another bout of vomiting. All he wanted right now was to see James, to make sure he was all right.

And to tell him to stop blaming himself. 

A quick peek in the hall and then he was walking slowly, feeling the ache in his backside as the stitches pulled with every step. He kept one hand on the portable IV stand and the other on the wall, and in a few moments he was peering into the dim ward next to his own.

“James,” Robbie said in relief. James was sitting up in bed, leaning against the pillows, his eyes closed. There were blue shadows under his eyes and bruises visible on his neck and arms. Robbie took them in, memories of putting those marks on that pale skin flaring to life.

James opened his eyes and blinked a bit myopically. Robbie realised he probably didn’t have his contacts in. “God, do I look as bad as you?” James rasped, lifting his hand to his throat. 

“Worse, I think,” Robbie said. He swayed, then managed to negotiate the IV stand to a chair and sit down with a thump. “Ouch,” he said succinctly.

James clenched his jaw. “You too, huh? Stitches?”

“Four,” Robbie confirmed.

“Five,” James returned, then his eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry,” he choked.

“Oh, lad,” Robbie sighed. “Innocent said you were beating yourself up over this. Why on earth are you apologising to me? You did nothing wrong. Neither of us did anything wrong.”

James shook his head, rubbing fiercely at his eyes with one shaking hand. “Maybe you don’t remember it as well as I do,” he said stubbornly.

“I remember enough,” Robbie shot back. “We didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated. “It was done to us. Some bastard drugged us, and because of that we were both…” He heaved a breath, lowered his voice. “We were both violated. Doubly so, because not only were we… raped. We were forced to rape.”

“I was the aggressor,” James bit out, not meeting his eyes. “I remember that. You were passive, lost in your own world. I attacked you, repeatedly.”

“For god’s sake, James,” Robbie said wearily. “You were drugged. If you blame yourself then you have to blame me too. Five stitches, did you say? Didn’t do that to yourself, did you?”

“Didn’t I?” James said miserably. Robbie was assailed by a memory of James impaling himself on Robbie’s cock.

“No.” Robbie waited until James looked at him and said it again, firmly. “No. You didn’t. Neither of us was in our right mind. My god, did you hear what happened to Julie? Do you blame Peterson for that?”

“Some people will.”

“Then they’re idiots,” Robbie said bluntly. “We know better. We were there, it happened to us. I wasn’t thinking, I was reacting. It hit you harder first, but believe me, it was building in me all the time. Under the influence you wanted, but so did I. You took, and given the chance I did too.” Robbie covered his eyes with his hand. “I mean it, James. If you blame yourself then you’re blaming me too. Please don’t do that, I couldn’t stand it.”

Robbie fought tears and listened to James’s harsh breathing. “I need you to back me up now,” Robbie said, his voice rough, his sore throat scratching painfully. “Who else can understand what it was like but us?”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to look at me,” James said thickly.

Robbie wiped his eyes and deliberately looked at James, right at him. James blinked rapidly but stared back at him. “We’ll get through this,” Robbie said, wishing he was as confident as he was trying to sound. “But not alone. I need you to lean on, James. Please don’t push me away.”

James closed his eyes for a few moments, then firmed his chin and once again looked at Robbie. “I’ll try,” he said.

888

Robbie was trying to concentrate on the book he’d chosen from the hospital library trolley when Laura finally arrived. She paused in the ward doorway and looked at him, biting her lip and then forcing a smile. “I go away for five minutes,” she said.

Robbie laid the book in his lap and held out his hand and she rushed over and took it, squeezing it before leaning over and kissing his cheek. He tried not to flinch at the contact, wrapping his arm around her and letting her cry on his shoulder for a few moments.

“Oh, look at me,” she said, pulling back and fumbling a hanky from her pocket. “I just promised myself I’d be strong, and I’m crying already.”

“You can be strong and still cry,” Robbie said, holding onto her hand with both of his as she sat on the side of the bed, “I’ve been crying on and off all day.”

Laura stroked his grazed cheek with gentle fingers, then drew back as he turned his head away. “So I see,” she said sadly. “Oh, love. What a horrible thing to happen. How are you feeling? Is that a stupid question?”

Robbie huffed a breath, a bit embarrassed at withdrawing so obviously from her touch. “It’s the right question, just not sure of the answer.” He looked down at her hand still held in both of his. “You know what happened?”

“Jean told me,” she said gently. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” She hesitated. “You and James.”

“He’s taking it worse than me, I think. James being James, he blames himself.”

“I saw the cocktail of synthetic drugs your brownies were laced with,” Laura said. “Frankly it could have been a lot worse.”

“Please tell James that,” Robbie said. “Have you heard how Peterson is?”

“His kidneys are shot,” Laura said grimly. “Right now he’s being kept alive by machines. A kidney donation might be his only hope of a normal life.”

“That’s his career shot too then,” Robbie said soberly. “And Julie? How does someone get over something like that?”

Laura gazed at him. “That’s something you and James will have to find out,” she said gently.

Robbie shrugged, accepting this. “I’m not sure it’s sunk in yet,” he admitted. “I mean, I know that’s what happened, god knows I can still feel the affects of it.”

Laura grimaced sympathetically.

“But I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that James and I were both affected. It was non consensual all right, because we were drugged. But it wasn’t violent. It didn’t feel violent at the time,” he amended.

“Nine stitches between you says differently,” Laura reminded him.

Robbie shook his head. “I know, I know you’re right. It was a violation, it was. But as much as I wish James didn’t have to bear this guilt – it’s almost a comfort that it was both of us. That neither of us is the bad guy.” He frowned. “I’m not putting it very well.”

“You went through something horrific,” Laura said. “But you went through it together. Alan will have to live with what he did while under the influence alone.”

“I guess,” Robbie said. “No one else can possibly understand how powerful it was. How it drove us. But we can, James and I.”

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t raped, Robbie.”

Robbie shied away from the word. It seemed different, somehow, coming from Laura’s mouth. He’d accepted it, hadn’t he? No need to keep banging on about it. “How’s Tony?”

Laura sighed, but let him change the subject.

888

Robbie was sitting in the armchair by James’s bed when Innocent returned, and he could see right away she had news. James seemed a bit more at peace today after his visit from Laura, and he’d smiled when Robbie had settled in next to him with his book.

“Gentlemen,” Jean said, her face shining. “We’ve caught the culprits, and the story is almost beyond belief.” She dragged over a hard chair and sat down with a gusty sigh.

“The girl guide gang in custody?” James said, eyes on his book as he carefully closed it.

“Our televised appeal located them pretty quickly. Getting the story out of them took a bit longer.” She consulted her notes. “April Lonnigan, aged eleven, hit upon the bright idea of a bake sale to support her local Girl Guide chapter. This idea came to her when she visited her brother’s dorm room and found the two dozen packets of brownies he had packed up for distribution to the local rave party set.”

“You’re kidding,” Robbie said flatly. “As simple as that?”

“Her brother is a chemistry student, and he and his cohorts have been brewing up synthetic party drugs for a year. The Drugs Squad has been trying to get a lead on the pipeline since last September, when a rave party goer attacked his fellow partiers with an iron pipe.”

“I remember that,” James said.

“The brownies in question were supposed to be divided in two and then sold,” Innocent said, closing the folder. 

“So when we had two each…”

“You were each taking four times the dose sold at a rave,” Jean confirmed. “And Alan Peterson ingested six times the dose.”

James was looking down at his hands, still gripping his book. “Because an eleven year old girl stole her brother’s brownies,” he said numbly. 

“I don’t envy the CPS coming up with charges for that lot,” Robbie said, feeling equally as numb. “My god, what a mess.”

“How’s Julie?” James asked softly.

“Her parents have taken her back to London. She’s in good spirits, or she’s putting on a very brave face.” Innocent looked back and forward between them. “And how are you two?”

“Getting there,” Robbie said when James remained silent. 

Innocent stood, gathering her folders. “I’m going to see Alan and Tony, and then I’m going home. I’ve barely slept in three days.”

“Send Tony and Lizzie our best,” Robbie said. Innocent gave James one last anxious look, shrugged one shoulder at Robbie and clicked away wearily. “You all right?” Robbie asked quietly.

James just shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. Tony almost died, Julie must be traumatised, Peterson has lost everything, and even if he wakes up it’s to the knowledge that he…” James fiddled with the pages of his book. “The doctors said we were lucky. No brain damage, no organ damage.”

“Doesn’t feel very lucky, does it? Like getting hit by a truck and someone telling you that it could have been worse, you could have been hit by a train.”

James shook his head. “We have to live the rest of our lives with this. How are we supposed to do that?”

Robbie sighed. “Same way we do every other grief. One day at a time. James,” he said, hesitating. “I’m all right you know? I’m angry and I’m in pain and I’m a bit embarrassed. But I’m still me, still Robbie Lewis. And you’re still James Hathaway, no matter what.”

James looked up at him, his eyes wary. “Embarrassed?” 

“Aye,” Robbie admitted. “I understand why people don’t report… you know.” He shook his head, annoyed at himself. “I can admit it to myself, face it. But I just want everyone else to forget about it. I don’t want to be a victim, I don’t want every nurse and doctor knowing what happened. Even seeing Laura…”

“She cried on my shoulder,” James said.

“Mine too.”

“She said I needed to look after you.”

Robbie frowned. “Did she?”

“She said that you needed to look after me, and that the best way I could return the favour was by letting you.” James gave him another half smile. “She’s a bit clever, that one.”

“Canny lass,” Robbie said. “Obviously I’ll be staying with her when we’re released, but I was wondering. Would you stay at my place while I’m at hers? I still have another three weeks on the lease, so I’m taking my time packing, even though I’ve mostly moved in to Laura’s already.”

James thought about it. “You don’t want me to go to back to my flat.”

“Not alone,” Robbie said. “Not at all, if you don’t want. You’ll need a cleaning service anyway, why not get a moving service too? Store your stuff at my place until you find somewhere.”

James frowned. “I like my flat.”

“It’s just a place. But it’s a place something terrible happened.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“A least say you’ll stay at mine? I’d feel better if you did,” Robbie said slyly.

James smiled. “You and Laura are tag teaming me.”

Robbie raised his hands defensively. “It’s completely coincidental. But probably because we both care about you.” 

“All right,” James agreed.

888

Robbie fought to keep his eyes open, the softness of Laura’s couch and the warmth of the room making it a difficult battle. He wanted sleep, he wanted his bed, but…

“Robbie?” Laura said, and Robbie’s eyes shot open. “You need to be in bed.”

“A few minutes longer,” Robbie said, forcing himself upright, blinking away the sleep.

Laura sighed. “It’s all right, Robbie,” she said gently. “I’ve made up the bed in the spare room.” She tilted her head when he looked at her guiltily.

“You didn’t have to,” he muttered.

“It’s okay.” She tried to smile at him. “It’s not hard to understand that you might be reluctant to share a bed right now.”

“It’s not you,” Robbie said awkwardly. “You know that, don’t you?” 

“I know,” she said, but her eyes were sad.

888

Robbie crashed from sheer exhaustion, and woke at about two am, thirsty and headachy. He quietly made his way downstairs and took a bottle of water out of the fridge, then let himself outside into Laura’s pretty little garden. He sat on the swing and guzzled the water, one hand in his pocket on his phone.

He wasn’t sure why he’d picked it up and put it in his robe pocket, once he’d noted the time. Not like he was on call. Not like he had anyone to call. He sat, sipping at the water, staring up at the moon and the starry sky. He hadn’t felt so lost since Val died, and then at least he’d had anger and bitterness to sustain him.

Who did he have to rage against now? A couple of stupid students mixing up party drugs? A little girl stealing baked goods from her big brother? Himself for not being strong enough to fight the effects?

Under his hand the phone vibrated and he snatched it out of his pocket, knowing even before he saw the display who it would be.

“James? Are you all right?”

“I found a cat,” James said abruptly.

Robbie’s mind went blank. “What?”

“I was walking by the river and I found a cat. Its leg is hurt. Can you come pick me up?”

Robbie pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the display. “It’s three in the morning,” he said, putting it back to his ear. “Why were you walking by the river?”

“Why did you answer the phone on the first ring?” James said. “I’m on Oak Walk. Can you come get me? You have your car there, don’t you?”

“Oak Walk?” Robbie stood up, abandoning his water bottle. “You must have been walking all night. Wait there, I won’t be long.”

“Bring a blanket,” James said abruptly before ringing off.

“A blanket,” Robbie muttered, quietly slipping back upstairs and getting dressed. He paused outside Laura’s door, but didn’t knock, instead treading back downstairs and out into the night.

James was sitting up on a park bench table, shivering in the pre dawn air, his coat bundled in his arms. “Are you crazy?” Robbie said, swinging the car blanket around his shoulders. “You’ve just got out of hospital, man.”

“I didn’t want to get scratched,” James said, allowing himself to be enfolded in the warm blanket. He looked down into the folds of his coat and Robbie peered in, frowning. He could see the thin face of a cat, possibly tabby, although it was hard to tell in the dim park lighting. 

“I think someone hurt her,” James said. “Her leg is broken and she’s got a cut on her back.”

“There’s a 24 hour vets in Osney,” Robbie said. “I took Monty there once. Want me to carry her?” 

“I’m okay,” James said stubbornly, but he stumbled a bit as he stood, and Robbie grabbed him by the elbow to steady him. James froze, and Robbie let him go, heart sinking.

“Sorry,” he muttered. 

“It’s okay,” James said, walking past him to the car park. “Just took me by surprise. Sorry to drag you out.”

“I was up,” Robbie confessed, pointing his keys at the car and unlocking it. “Out in the backyard. I crashed for a while, but then I needed to be outside.”

“Laura didn’t mind you running out?” James let Robbie open the car door and he slid in, grimacing a little in pain as he settled into the seat. Robbie circled the car and got behind the wheel.

“She’s still asleep. I slept in the spare room,” he said, not sure why he was telling James that. Maybe because of the way James had frozen under his hand back there. Maybe he wanted him to understand that he wasn’t alone in being uneasy at being close to someone.

James looked at him searchingly through the darkness as Robbie drove. “I guess I slept a bit this afternoon. But I couldn’t settle. I thought a walk might tire me.”

“Some walk,” Robbie said dryly. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I was craving a cigarette,” James confessed. “But my throat is still sore, and it just makes me cough.”

“Might be the chance to give it up,” Robbie said, pulling into a space in front of the lit up clinic. 

“It’s my only vice,” James said defensively, as he always did when the subject came up.

“It will kill you,” Robbie said automatically, then met his eyes as he switched the motor off. “If poisoned brownies don’t do it first.”

James snorted.

888

Robbie’s phone rang as he was paying the bill, and he glanced out the window at the fresh light of dawn as he answered.

“Hi, Laura.”

“Robbie, thank goodness. Where are you?”

“At the vet,” Robbie said. “Just a sec.” He punched in his PIN number and accepted the receipt as the handheld device scrolled it out. 

“The vet?” Laura said incredulously. “I know I’m only a pathologist, Robbie, but if you needed a doctor surely I’m better than a vet?”

“Haha,” Robbie said sourly, making a face at the figure on the receipt before tucking it and his credit card back in his wallet. “James found a cat and it had a broken leg.”

“You’re with James?” Laura’s voice changed, grew blank. 

“He couldn’t sleep, took a long walk. Look, we’re just finishing up here and then we’re taking the cat back to mine. I still have some of Monty’s things.”

“Well, I’ve been called out, a sudden death in Jericho. You have your house keys?”

Robbie automatically patted his pocket, resisting the urge to ask her about the sudden death. He was off duty until further notice, it wasn’t his concern. “I do,” he said. “Take care, I’ll see you when you get home.”

There was silence on the line. “You’re coming home tonight then?”

“If I’m still welcome,” he said carefully.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Laura’s voice was fond and he relaxed. “I’ll see you tonight. Call if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Laura?” James said as he emerged from the office, the cat in a neat carrier box. Robbie could see her curious, furry face through the air holes on the side.

“She has a call out in Jericho. Manage?” He nodded to the box and James tightened his grip on the cardboard handle. 

“I’m fine. Do you want to drop me off?”

“Nah, I’ll come in with you, dig out Monty’s old things. I even have a few cans of cat food in the cupboard, never got around to donating them to the shelter.”

“You still miss him,” James said as he carefully placed the carrier in the back seat and buckled the seatbelt over it.

“You get used to it,” Robbie said. “That furry bundle on the windowsill. Someone running to meet you when you get home, even if it’s just because they want feeding.”

“The vet said he was quite old when you got him,” James said sympathetically.

“I’m quite old too,” Robbie said gruffly. “Doesn’t mean I should be put down any time soon.”

James buckled himself into the front seat and gave him an understanding smile. 

“I’m hungry,” Robbie said. “Want to stop and pick up some bacon butties to go?”

“Aren’t we supposed to be on a liquid diet for another day?” James said doubtfully. 

“I can’t face another bowl of soup,” Robbie said stubbornly. “Or one of those protein shakes.” He made a face and James laughed.

“Use the drive through at Maccas then,” he suggested. “We can get a couple of coffees too.”

Robbie slanted him a glance. “McDonalds? Seriously?”

“I like their breakfast wraps,” James admitted. “Maybe if we chew them well they’ll pass as a liquid breakfast.”

“I’ll remind you that you said that later today when you’re crying on the toilet.”

“I’ve cried everywhere else this week,” James said dryly, and Robbie snorted a laugh.

“Now see, I couldn’t say that to Laura,” he said, pulling into the drive through line behind a silver Audi. “She’d just look at me like her heart is breaking.”

“Things tough with you two?”

Robbie shrugged. “She’s been amazing. She always is.”

“But?”

Robbie gave their order to the speaker and pulled around to the service window. A few minutes later James was carefully sipping his piping hot coffee, the fragrant paper bag on his lap. “But?” he said again.

“But nothing,” Robbie said. “It’s not her, it’s me.”

“I can still go back to my place,” James offered. “You can come back to yours.”

“I don’t want you going back there until the cleaning service is done. And even then not alone.”

“Will you come with me?” James asked quietly.

“Yes,” Robbie said without thinking about it. 

“You sure?” 

“No,” Robbie said, and they both laughed again, ruefully. 

“Thanks for coming to get me,” James said as they drove through the quiet early morning streets. “Thanks for making me laugh again.”

Robbie shrugged. “Might as well laugh as cry, as my old granny used to say.”

“I reserve the right to do both,” James said wryly. “Normally I’d be desperate to get back to work, but right now I can’t even bear the thought. Someone just has to say the wrong thing and I’ll start sobbing like a baby.”

“Not good for that tough, manly persona you’ve been cultivating all these years,” Robbie agreed.

“That’s a dig at my lavender tie again, isn’t it?” James said resignedly.

“And the matching socks,” Robbie reminded him, pulling into his parking spot. “Never forget the matching socks.”

“The rallying cry for a new generation,” James muttered, unbuckling his seat belt.

“Get the door, I’ll get the carrier,” Robbie said. He got out of the car and stretched carefully, looking up into the pale blue of the late summer sky. “It’s going to be a beautiful day,” he murmured. 

James looked at him across the roof of the car. He half smiled. “I’m glad you can still see that,” he said enigmatically. 

They settled the cat in the corner in an old cardboard box that Robbie had filled with items ready to go to charity. James lined it with one of the would-be charitable donations, a worn old football sweater, the colours faded, the neck pulled out of shape.

“Should have chucked it out years ago,” Robbie said gruffly as the cat sniffed at the box before stepping over the side James had cut down. “I always hold onto things too long.”

“Nothing wrong with that if they’re good things,” James defended. 

They watched the cat limp around in a circle and settle down in her new home. “What are you going to call her?” 

“I haven’t thought that far ahead. I probably won’t keep her, it’s not fair to have a pet when you’re out all day.”

“Ah, that’s a dog,” Robbie said, taking his wrap and coffee to the armchair and siting down with a weary sigh. “Cats don’t care if you’re out. Just buy her some toys to play with and make sure she has a place to curl up in the sun. Cats are easy.”

“I’ll get you to empty the litter box, shall I?” James said, settling on the lounge. 

“You won’t get far in life if you’re squeamish about some shit,” Robbie said. “Try changing a few nappies, it’s amazing what you can cope with after that.”

“Yeah, no,” James said dryly. “I’ll stick to cats.”

“You can become the male equivalent of an old cat lady,” Robbie said thoughtfully. He savoured every bite of his wrap and sipped at the still hot coffee. “I’ll pay for that later,” he said, leaning back with a contented sigh. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“You say that now,” James smirked, but Robbie noticed he also finished every bite. 

“D’you think you can sleep now?” Robbie said, noting the dark shadows under his eyes. “I can stay if you like. Might catch a few winks here in my armchair. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

James patted his pocket and then grimaced, probably remembering he wasn’t smoking at the moment. “I don’t know,” he said slowly.

Robbie felt his cheeks redden. “It’s okay if you want me to go,” he said hurriedly, leaning to stand up.

“No,” James said quickly, putting out his hand. “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want you to go.”

Robbie sat back, watching him closely. “I do understand,” he said awkwardly. “I could hardly bear to be with Laura last night, you know?”

“But you can bear to be with me?” James asked quietly.

“It’s different with you,” Robbie admitted. 

James nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “I don’t have to wonder if you’re judging me, or pitying me, or speculating about what on earth happened to us that night.”

Robbie swallowed hard, just nodding.

“Have you remembered any more?” James’s voice was a hushed whisper.

“Bits and pieces. Impressions mainly. I wasn’t thinking much. Just reacting.”

James nodded. “I try to pin down what I was thinking and come up blank. It was all want. Desire. Hunger. Like a fever.”

“Yes,” Robbie agreed, remembered sensations drifting over him. “I’ve always wondered what people see in hallucinogenic drugs. When I was a lad there was a lot of LSD around, then later it was PCP. I mean, how bad must your life be if hallucinating seems like a fun option?”

“I never liked the idea of losing control,” James said. “And now its become my worst nightmare.”

“I know it’s easy to say,” Robbie said carefully. “But it really could have been worse. For all the mindlessness of it. The selfish desperation. It wasn’t violent.”

James heaved a sigh. “It could have been,” he said. “If you’d fought me, I honestly don’t know what I would have done.”

“You weren’t in control, neither of us was. But for all that, the pain, the injuries. They were incidental. A result of that control being wiped out by the drugs. You and I – we weren’t violent.”

“I hurt you,” James said, his voice low, his eyes cast down. “I remember that.” He frowned. “I remember…” His cheeks paled.

Robbie leaned forward. “Tell me,” he said urgently. “If you need to say it, I need to hear it. It’s all in my head anyway, James, and I honestly can’t even tell what really happened and what I hallucinated. Maybe talking it through will help?”

James looked at him searchingly, his eyes shadowed. “I remember that you were facedown on the floor and I was on top of you. Do you remember that?”

Robbie thought about it, then lifted his hand to his cheek. “Yes,” he said, abruptly recalling it. “You tried to... I wanted you to,” he said, as James hunched his shoulders. “I think you did, a little.”

“And you cried out,” James said bleakly. 

“And you rolled off me,” Robbie said, the memories coming fast now. “And you grabbed my arm and shook me. You said that we’d been drugged.” He looked at James. “You must have come back to yourself, just for a while.”

“I did say that,” James said, eyes growing distant. “I remember that. I… I wanted to find my phone, call an ambulance. I realised we’d been drugged.”

“You managed to fight it off long enough to get to the bedroom,” Robbie recalled. “You were almost at the phone when you collapsed. I heard you and came after you. And then it all goes fuzzy again.”

“If only I hadn’t fallen,” James whispered.

“But you fought it off for a while, James,” Robbie said. “And it was after I cried out in pain. You did what I couldn’t do, you were almost lucid. And after that, even on the bed, you didn’t hurt me.”

“I raped you,” James said baldly. “That much I do remember. Being inside you.” He swiped at a tear running down one cheek. “I was raping you and all I can remember now is the unbelievable pleasure I was feeling.”

“I was being raped,” Robbie said bluntly. “Although obviously at the time I wasn’t aware enough to realise it. But all I remember past that first pain was the pleasure. Just rocking into you, as you...” He broke off, realising that he’d said more than he’d ever intended. “I guess maybe I’m the one who needed to talk,” he said, cheeks reddening.

“If you need to say it then I need to hear it,” James quoted at him. “Who else could you talk to? Who else can I talk to?”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, absorbing the new and refreshed memories.

“James?” Robbie said finally. “Had you ever… You know.”

“No,” James said. “You?”

Robbie huffed a laugh. “I married young, and waited nearly ten years after my wife died to have sex again, and that was with Laura. If there’s one word to describe my sex life, it’s vanilla.”

“My one word would be ‘sparse’,” James admitted. “And also pretty vanilla as well. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“I was never the adventurous type myself.”

“It felt amazing,” James said, then rubbed at his face with both hands. “There, I admitted it. I’ve never felt anything like it. The drug I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Robbie agreed. “And I suppose I can admit it too. Not just being taken, but taking you. Do you remember that?”

“My second rape of you,” James said. “Climbing on top of you. Forcing myself on you. Taking you inside me.”

“You were crying, you were hurting yourself,” Robbie said. “But it felt so bloody amazing to me, it overwhelmed me. I put you on your back and finished it.”

“It did hurt,” James said. “But that’s the part that’s clearest to me now, until we woke up so sick. You holding my hips and just driving into me. And how good it felt.” He stared at Robbie. “I thought I’d go to my grave with that in my head,” he said, amazed. 

“Maybe there is something to this whole ‘talking’ thing,” Robbie said, wiping at his own eyes. “I feel better, getting it out there.”

“You understand, don’t you?” James said, leaning forward. “When I say I felt pleasure, I’m not minimising what happened, what it was. It was nonconsensual, I know that. For both of us.”

“But it was also sexual,” Robbie said. “Whether anyone else can understand that or not. The passion may have been artificially stimulated, but it felt real. We both felt it.”

“Do you think…” James groped for words. “Do you think the violence felt real to Peterson? Is that what he has to live with, as we have to live with this?”

Robbie thought about it and shuddered. “That line between what was us and what was the drug,” he said slowly. “How do we draw that? Where?”

“I don’t know,” James admitted. “It was dark, and hot, and frightening. It is frightening. But it was us, even if we weren’t in control of ourselves. It’s a cop-out to pretend it wasn’t, just because what we did was so extreme.”

“And yet it’s so tempting,” Robbie said with a humourless laugh. “Just blame it all on the drugs, because that’s a lot easier than accepting what’s inside us.” Robbie looked at James. “We need to come to terms with that.”

James stared back at him for long moments before looking away. “That might be the hardest part,” he whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts and memories. Finally Robbie shook his head and sighed deeply. “Whew. That’s got to be the equivalent of a year’s worth of therapy right there.”

“Think that will get us out of actual therapy?” James said, shutting his eyes with a sigh. “Christ, I’m tired.”

“Sleep,” Robbie said. “Lay down and sleep. Maybe that’s another step for us, being able to trust ourselves and each other. At least long enough for a cat nap.”

“And now I own a cat,” James murmured, and then he snuffled a few times and dozed off.

Robbie watched him, his own eyes drooping. James always looked so young when he slept, all those frown lines eased away. Let him get some real rest, he thought, before he too slipped into sleep.

888

When Robbie stirred it was to the quiet tap of a spoon on a bowl, and he opened his eyes to see James in the small kitchen, scraping cat food out of a tin and into Monty’s old bowl.

“Sorry,” James said. “But she’s acting like she’s starving.”

“Aye, that sounds familiar.” He stretched, feeling better than he had in days. “Did you get some sleep?”

“I did,” James said, sounding surprised. He put the food bowl next to the water dish and smiled as the cat sniffed delicately and then tore into it. “She’s got her appetite back anyway.”

“I’ll pick up a litter tray and a bag of kitty litter tomorrow,” Robbie promised, shrugging into his jacket and feeling for his keys. “You’ll have to carry her outside when she needs to go until then.” He paused. “That’s if it’s all right for me to come back tomorrow. I can just drop it off if you like.” 

James kept his eyes on the cat, licking out her bowl. “You’re welcome any time. And not just because it’s your flat.”

“Not for much longer. And it’s yours while you’re staying here. Now, there’s frozen stuff in the freezer, and the takeaway menus are on the fridge.”

“Gosh, however will I cope on my own?” James said, slanting him a smirk.

“Fine,” Robbie smirked back at him. “I know when I’m not needed. See you in the morning. And James? No more midnight rambling, okay? You’ve got someone at home to look after now.”

888

Robbie was laying the plates on the table as Laura came in, dropping her bag on the sideboard and sniffing. “You’re supposed to be resting, you shouldn’t have cooked.”

“Lucky you, I didn’t,” Robbie said, laying out the cutlery. “I picked up chicken in wine sauce from Gino’s. For two.”

“My favourite,” Laura smiled. She paused a few feet away from him, and Robbie knew she wanted to kiss his cheek. He turned away and pulled some napkins out of a drawer. 

“You’ve got time to clean up,” he said cheerfully, and he heard her give a small sigh before she left the room. He sat down, napkins clutched in his hands, a lead weight in his belly. 

Robbie managed a good portion of the meal, and declined wine with it or a beer afterwards because of the pain killers he was on.

“You see the doctor tomorrow, don’t you?” Laura said, leaning back in her chair with her wine. 

“To check my stitches,” Robbie said, avoiding her eyes. He was not looking forward to the appointment. He stacked the plates on the sink and leaned back against the counter, cradling his own glass of tonic water. 

“So,” Laura said. “Tell me about this cat?”

Robbie smiled and filled her in, glossing over James wandering the streets of Oxford most of the night. “Now he has to come up with a name, and I’m trying to think of the most silly, twee ones I can think of,” Robbie said. “Then he’ll either have to pick one, or end up calling her Puddles, or Tiddles, or Princess Prissy Pants.”

Laura chuckled. “You think he’ll keep her?” 

“Why not? It’ll do him good to worry about someone else for a change. Lucky I had most of Monty’s things still, and tomorrow I said I’ll pick up a tray and some kitty litter.”

“Tomorrow?” Laura swirled the wine in her glass. “You’re seeing him again tomorrow?”

Robbie shrugged. “I might leave the dishes for a while,” he said. “There’s a special I want to watch. Do you mind?”

“I’ll help you with them later,” Laura said, but she had a small frown on her forehead, and her eyes were worried.

888

Next morning Robbie slipped out early and climbed into his car, shutting the door as quietly as possible. Even so when he looked up at the house he could see Laura in her nightdress, standing at her window looking down at him. He raised his hand and after a moment she raised hers.

Robbie drove away, already understanding that he’d just started saying goodbye.

888

“I’m back and I brought food,” Robbie said when James opened the door to him.

“You can let yourself in you know, it is your flat,” James said, but for all his grumpy tone he reached out with grabby hands and took the offered coffee and brown paper bag. 

“Real coffee this time,” Robbie bragged as James sniffed at the huge cup. “And an actual bacon buttie, with brown sauce.”

“You’re a god among men,” James said reverently. 

“How’s Piddles this morning?”

“I’m not calling her that,” James said after a sip of coffee. “And stop trying to harsh my buzz.”

“Got to call her something,” Robbie said, unpacking the tray and litter he’d picked up at Tescos. “The laundry all right for the litter tray?”

James waved a hand and sprawled on the lounge chair. “You’re the expert,” he said, but he craned his neck as Robbie found a spot and tipped in some of the deodorant litter. “How will she know where it is? I don’t have to pee in it first myself do I?”

“Again, she’s a cat, not a dog. Didn’t you have cats on the estate when you were growing up?”

“Farm cats. Who lived in the barn, ate rats and other vermin, and for whom the entire world was their litter tray.”

“Good point.”

888

“What time’s your appointment?” Robbie said, stacking the CD’s he was sorting in two piles.

“Two.” James strummed at his guitar, legs up on the coffee table. The cat was laying next to him on the couch, bandaged leg sprawled out. 

“Mine’s three,” Robbie said, and he wiped away the dust on the shelf and began packing the CD’s in their moving box in alphabetical order. “Want to go together?”

“I’m not going,” James said causally. Robbie stopped what he was doing and turned to look at him. 

“You’re not?”

“Nope.” James laid his hand on the strings and reached for his coffee. 

Robbie absorbed this and turned back to his packing, slipping Dire Straits in before Dusty Springfield. 

“Aren’t you going to ask why?” James said.

Robbie studied his Best of the Sixties compilation and wondered whether to file it under B or C. “Nope.” James played a quick, complex collection of notes, and then slid into something soft and simple. Robbie huffed. “That’s nice,” he noted.

“I’m just not in the mood to be poked and prodded today, that’s all,” James said moodily.

“Can’t say I fancy it myself,” Robbie said causally. “Might give it a miss too. Maybe we can take a drive, get out of town. Pub crawl?”

“Just because I’m not going doesn’t mean you don’t have to,” James said. Robbie glanced at him as he put his guitar aside and paced into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, stared at the contents and then slammed the door closed. 

“I know,” Robbie said. “I think I might get rid of the LP’s, what do you think? I have most of them on CD anyway, and that record player is on its last legs.”

“It’s just to check my stitches,” James said. “I don’t need anyone checking my stitches, I know my own body. I’m fine.”

“And you don’t want anyone touching you,” Robbie said evenly. He caught James’s eye. “I do get it.”

James looked at him defiantly for a few moments, and then his shoulders slumped and he turned back to the small window.

“And you’re right, I’m fine too,” Robbie said, getting up and dusting his hands. “I just come from a different generation, that’s all. When a doctor tells you to do something, you do it. No questions asked.”

“Let’s go for that drive,” James said suddenly, turning around. 

“We’ll have to leave Princess on her own,” Robbie pointed out.

“I’m not calling her that,” James said, distracted. “I’m calling her Calliope.”

Robbie snorted. “You what?”

“Calliope,” James said stubbornly. “The muse of poetry. The chief of all muses.”

“You’re seriously gonna stand at your back door tapping on a tin lid and calling out Calliope?”

“Better than Piddles.”

“Princess,” Robbie corrected, sitting down next to her sprawled form and scratching her head. “Because you are a princess, aren’t you?” She slitted open her eyes and twisted under his touch. “I suppose she’ll be all right for a few hours.”

“We’ll bring her with us,” James said.

Robbie raised a brow. “On a pub crawl?” 

“Let’s just go,” James said. “Let’s just get in the car and drive. Find a cottage somewhere, by the sea maybe. Somewhere wild and empty, with no TV, no internet. No tourists.”

“That takes pets,” Robbie finished. “Are you suggesting we run away from home?”

“It’s called a holiday,” James said, crossing his arms. “We’ve been through an ordeal, we need time to recover.”

“But to just take off?” he said, although he had to admit, the idea was tempting. To just get away and leave behind the concerned faces and the sympathy and doctors and hospitals. 

James must have heard the intrigue in his voice, he loped over and sat opposite him, leaning forward in the arm chair. “Why not? We can just head north and I can book us somewhere online on the way.”

“You understand the irony of booking a holiday house online that has no internet?”

“Well, maybe wifi wouldn’t hurt,” James admitted. “We do need to know where the local pubs and cafes are.”

Robbie shook his head fondly. “How did humanity survive before Google?”

“On disco and prawn cocktails,” James retorted. “Let’s do it, let’s go. Now.”

“I’d need to stop by Laura’s for my medication,” Robbie said, but he’d given in and James knew it. 

“I can pack in five minutes,” James said, getting up and walking down the short hall. “Most of my stuff is still in the duffel bag Innocent brought over for me anyway. Add the charger for my laptop, shaving kit, guitar. Done.”

“And medication,” Robbie called after him. “We might be eschewing civilisation but we still have a week of antibiotics left. I for one don’t want to die of an infection in the wilds of… Where are we going?”

“Who knows?” James called back.

888

By one pm they had the car packed and the cat settled and buckled in to a luxurious cage they’d bought from a pet supply store in Meadowlands. James’s guitar was secured next to her, and the fridge in Robbie’s flat had been cleared of perishables.

“Scotland?” James suggested, scrolling down the list. “If we can’t find somewhere at short notice by the sea, there’s always a loch.” He slanted Robbie a glance and smirked. “No, we’re not going to Loch Ness.”

“Aw,” Robbie pouted. “But I’ve never been.”

“No tourists, remember? Loch Ness is always packed with them.”

“All right,” Robbie conceded reluctantly. “But can we swing by there on our way back from running away? Just so I can say I’ve been, and pick up a t shirt for Jack?”

“We’re not running away,” James said. “We’re just taking a short break.”

“Uh huh. Call the hospital and cancel our appointments. And then you can send a text to Laura on my phone. I’ll dictate it,” he said when James just stared at him. 

“What are you going to say?” James asked, quietly. 

“I’ll start with sorry.”

888

They picked up coffee and sandwiches around mid afternoon, and stopped in a pretty green park to eat them, letting the cat out of her cage to sniff around and pee. She was still limping too badly to run away, but James decided to get her a leash until she was trained to stay close when they were away from home.

“Still not a dog,” Robbie reminded him.

“What happened to your cat?” A little girl of about six was staring at the cat wide eyed. Beyond her a man and a woman were sitting at another picnic table, keeping an eye on her.

“She’s not really our cat yet,” James said. “We found her the other day with a sore leg. We’re kind of adopting her.” 

“Oh, poor thing,” the little girl said. “May I pat her?”

“Sure,” Robbie said when James looked dubious. “Just be gentle, she’s still a bit poorly.”

The little girl squatted and gently rubbed the cat between her ears. The parents wandered over and nodded at Robbie and James politely. The man had a toddler of about three in his arms, sleeping on his shoulder. “What’s her name?” the little girl asked.

“Princess,” Robbie said.

“Calliope,” James also said, and rolled his eyes at Robbie.

“Princess Calliope,” Robbie said with a grin. 

“Oh, that’s so cute!” the little girl said, clapping her hands. “Mum, did you hear? Princes Calliope!”

The woman chuckled. “Very cute,” she agreed. “Now come on, Sarah, Andrew’s tired and he needs a nap.”

“I don’t need a nap,” Sarah said to Robbie, very seriously. “I’m too old for naps.”

“Not me,” Robbie confided. “I love naps.”

“Princess Calliope,” James snickered as the family drove away. “We should start a blog. The Adventures of Princess Calliope, the Travelling Cat.” He pulled out his phone and spent the next few minutes taking pictures of the cat. Robbie watched fondly, just glad that he’d decided to come, and that James had stopped brooding for a while.

888

_Sorry, Laura. James and I need a break, so we’re heading off for a week or so. Don’t worry about us, we’re fine. We have the cat with us, her name is now Princess Calliope. Robbie._

_Laura. Don’t worry about Robbie, I’m taking care of him, and the cat is just called Calliope. James._

888

They found a place near Rascarrel Bay, a cottage by a burn, overlooking the rocky coast. They picked up the keys from the small village, and the sun was setting in the west as they pulled up and gazed at the lovely old stone house.

“Let’s stretch our legs,” Robbie suggested, and they picked up the sleepy cat and abandoned the car and the boxes of food and all their luggage, and walked to where the green grass ended and the rocky shore began. No picture postcard this, it was wild and rugged, the sea dark green and iron blue in the evening light. It even smelled wild, salty and briny, with a tang of kelp.

“Perfect,” James declared, Princess Calliope gazing interestedly around, and Robbie couldn’t help but smile at the serene look of peace in James’s eyes.

888

James chose the bedroom looking out to the coast, and Robbie the one facing the bubbling burn behind the cottage. The hillsides stretched away in the distance, pitch black now as the last of the light faded. They collapsed exhausted after hauling in all their gear, and after feeding the cat they both settled on the remainder of the sandwiches they’d picked up earlier.

Robbie brewed the kettle and they sat to eat with cups of packet soup, not usually a favourite but oddly satisfying with the roast beef sandwiches.

“I’ll sleep tonight,” Robbie declared.

James looked at him, his own eyes drooping. “This was a great idea, admit it.”

Robbie looked around with satisfaction at the cosy little kitchen, with its wooden benches and stone floor. “Credit where it’s due,” he said. The cat limped over and stared at him accusingly, and he winced. “Forgot to set up the litter tray. Sorry, PC.”

James pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, looked at them, and then tucked them back. “Maybe tomorrow,” he said as Robbie lifted a curious brow.

888

They turned in early and Robbie did sleep, better and deeper than he had in a week. He woke slowly and rolled over on his back, opening his eyes and scanning the unfamiliar room. It was light and airy, whitewashed walls and wooden floor boards. Modernised, but not starkly, and well in keeping with the age of the house.

Robbie stared at the ceiling. Had it really only been a week ago? This time last week he’d been getting ready for a Friday workday, kissing Laura goodbye as she headed to her conference, trying to decide what John Wayne movie to inflict on James that night. 

Now he was miles from home, scarred and sore, trying to accept that he’d been drugged and forced to tap into some primal part of himself that he hadn’t known existed. That he’d have been happy to have never learned existed. 

He wandered into the bathroom and then down the hall, scratching at his belly under his vest, shuffling along in bare feet. He’d forgotten to pack his slippers.

“Mornin’,” he said to James, who was slumped at the table with his hands around a mug of coffee. 

“Uhn,” James grunted, but Robbie didn’t worry. He knew what James was like before coffee in the morning.

Robbie usually fancied a cup of tea first thing in the morning rather than coffee, so he turned on the kettle and popped a tea bag into a mug with the picture of the Scottish flag on one side. 

“You sleep?”

“Too much,” James said, but he slurped at his coffee and sat up a bit straighter. “I never sleep more than six hours, and now my head feels fuzzy.”

“Still not smoking?”

James made a face. “Don’t give me any credit for willpower,” he said sourly. “I tried to have one before bed, but it tasted awful. I think the antibiotics are messing with my taste buds.”

“Shame,” Robbie said, and James shot him a narrow eyed death glare. “Fancy fishing today? I noticed some rods in the garage.”

“I don’t fish,” James said precisely. 

“And you a country lad,” Robbie said reproachfully.

“Anyway, we don’t have any bait.”

Robbie shook his head. “You really don’t fish. We can dig bait up, or net it in the rock pools.”

“I’ll just watch,” James declared. 

“Then you’ll watch while I eat my own delicious catch,” Robbie said smugly. “Speaking of which, I’m doing bacon, eggs and fry bread. Interested?”

888

After breakfast, and a half hour in the garden letting PC sniff around the grass and sprawl in a patch of sun, they packed a bag, took two of the deck chairs from the garage and headed down to the beach. Robbie had a hand-net under one arm, and a pocketful of plastic bags, determined to find something he could use as bait to fish that afternoon.

They tromped down the shore and found a spot protected from the wind. Robbie settled down in his deck chair and tilted his floppy hat to shade his eyes. “It’s no Whitley Bay,” he said, casting his gaze along the wild shore. “But it’s peaceful. Did you ever go to the seaside when you were a kid?”

They discussed holidays past, and Robbie thought reminiscently of sitting on the beach with two little ones running and paddling and screaming for joy as he chased them in and out of the waves. He must have grown silent, because he came back to himself to find James looking at him solemnly.

“They’re good memories,” Robbie assured him, blinking his watery eyes.

“Good memories can hurt too,” James said. 

“It all seems so long ago,” Robbie said. “I can remember the man that I was. Husband, father, DS to DCI Morse. But he’s almost a stranger to me now. You wouldn’t have known me, the man I was then.”

James watched him curiously. “What do you mean? How were you different?”

Robbie frowned thoughtfully. “I was… content. Happy. Easy going, got on with everyone. Ambitious but not overly so.” 

“You don’t seem so different than that to me,” James ventured. 

“I’ve mellowed some. After Val died, well. I was just angry all the time. Bitter. I did a good job of pushing everyone away, and drank myself to sleep every night. By the time you met me I’d settled for just being a grumpy old sod.”

“Well I think a lot of the old Robbie Lewis has come back,” James said loyally. “It just took you time to grieve, to move on.” He sighed, looking out to sea. “Sometimes things happen to us. Huge things, great losses. We get through them, if we’re lucky, but when we come out the other side we’re different. You were different when I met you from the man you used to be, I was different when you met me from that confidant young student who set out to devote his life to God.”

“And now here we are again,” Robbie said. “I’m not the man I was this time last week, that’s for sure. You can’t tell me you don’t feel fundamentally changed by what we went through.”

James considered this thoughtfully. “No, I can’t,” he finally agreed.

“So is this the part we have to get through to come out the other side? Our transition person?”

James stared at him. “What?”

“You said one time, that when a marriage breaks up, sometimes the first person someone is with isn’t the person they’ll stay with, they’re just a transition person,” Robbie said. 

“I remember,” James said, still looking confused. 

“Well, the man I became after I lost Val, he wasn’t who I ended up being. He was who I had to be to get through that loss, and all the losses that went along with it.”

“Ah,” James said. “I see. So you’re wondering if who we are now, what we’re feeling, is who we have to be to get through this ordeal. To come out the other side as someone else?” He pondered the idea. “That’s a scary thought,” he said. 

“Tell me about it,” Robbie said gloomily. “I’ve already done this once, I shouldn’t have to do it again at my time of life.”

“Its an interesting theory,” James said. “But I’m not sure I subscribe to it. We don’t suddenly become who we are, do we? We grow and change every day. Look at some of the cases we’ve been involved with. Every experience we have, every life we touch, every loss we suffer, or victory we achieve, wouldn’t you agree that each of those changed us in some way? Some more profoundly than others, but it certainly accumulates.”

Robbie leaned back, surveyed the dark blue sky, the small, scudding clouds. “I suppose,” he conceded. “I know I wasn’t ready for a relationship for a long time. I still grieved, still felt as if I were betraying Val somehow, by even wanting someone else.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone,” James said, and then he looked a bit nervous, as if worried he’d said too much.

“It’s all right,” Robbie assured him. “We’re beyond me snapping your head off just for mentioning her. And you’re right, she wouldn’t have wanted me to be alone. How did you know that?”

“Because you wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone if you’d died,” James said simply, and Robbie blinked in surprise. 

“I wouldn’t have,” he said slowly. 

“Do you…” James hesitated. “Do you think you and Laura will be all right?”

Robbie was still caught up in that last thought, and it was a few seconds until he’d absorbed James’s question. “Oh,” he said. “Honestly? I don’t know. Right now I can’t even picture kissing her, letting her kiss me. Just the thought…” He glanced apologetically at James. “The other morning when I took your elbow, I could have kicked myself. I know you don’t want to be touched, I feel the same way. I should have thought before acting.”

“It was instinctive,” James said. “Besides, you reached out to touch me, to help me. So you can be touched. At least when you’re not thinking about it.”

“I suppose,” Robbie conceded. “But it’s different with you. “ He grimaced. “I honestly don’t know what will happen with Laura and me.” He stood up, straightening his hat. “Right, time to find some bait.”

James sat back and tilted his hat to cover his eyes. “Good luck,” he drawled, a small smile on his lips.

888

They’d been at the house a few days when Robbie woke one morning about one am, thirsty and grumpy. At least he was no longer in pain, he thought to console himself as he trod to the bathroom and glared at his puffy face in the dim light cast through the door from the hall lamp. He peed and then walked quietly downstairs for a glass of water.

He stood at the sink, drinking deep, looking out at the dark fields and hillsides in the distance. The night was bright moonlight, painting the world silver and black, and Robbie caught his breath at a movement outside, heart pounding in his chest. Then he released it in an exasperated sigh as he realised that James was sitting in the garden in the chill night air, wearing only his thin sleep shirt and pants.

“Dammit,” he muttered, grabbing a blanket from the back of the lounge and pushing open the double glass doors to the small deck. The night chill hit him and he realised he was only wearing his pyjamas as well, still with no slippers. He wanted to say something sarcastic to James about having to keep rescuing him in the dark, he wanted to yell at him for sitting out here alone and scaring him half to death. But when James looked up at him all Robbie saw was the silvery tracks of tears on his cheeks. He dropped down next to him on the cold stone bench, and wordlessly wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. 

They sat there, side by side, the night cold and silent around them, while the tears ran down James’s cheeks, dropped off his chin, spattered on the woollen blanket.

“I feel so lost,” James whispered. “Broken. The things I did to you, the things I did to myself. That’s a part of me. The drugs took away reason and inhibition, the drugs drove the sexual desire. But the rest was me. I did that, and to you, of all people. How do I live with that, Robbie? Why would I want to live with that?”

Not knowing what to say, Robbie lifted his hand, longing to touch him, to connect with him, just for a moment. What was he supposed to say? He’d felt exactly the same way, hadn’t he? Cried the same tears in the darkness, desperately trying to muffle his sobs so no one would hear. Well, but if he understood what James was going through now, then maybe James would understand if he tried to comfort him with a human touch.

Tentatively Robbie laid a gentle hand on James’s shoulder, ready to back away if James rejected this simple contact. 

James’s breathing hitched. “How can you bear to even touch me?” he said brokenly. “You’re in pain, you’re covered with bruises and bites. Bites, for Christ’s sake. And I did that to you. Why would you want to touch me? Why would anyone want to touch me again?”

Following blind instinct now, Robbie gently took James’s shaking hand, stroking his fingers until James sniffed and gazed down at where they touched. Robbie slid back the loose cuff of James’s thin sweatshirt, exposing purple green bruises, now more than a week old and beginning to fade. Carefully he wrapped his hand around James’s wrist, the bruise disappearing as his fingers fit exactly over it. 

With his other hand Robbie tugged gently at the shirt’s neckline, exposing a ruddy love-bite, a crusted scar showing where a tooth had broken the skin.

“If it’s a part of you then it’s a part of me,” Robbie said lowly, and before he could think about it he leaned forward and softly kissed the mark he’d forced onto James’s skin the week before.

He pulled back and gazed into James’s wide eyes in the moonlight. “We’ll live with it because we must,” he said raggedly, the words pouring out of him now. “We accept that it’s a part of us, and we live with it because it’s a part that was never meant to see the light of day. Never meant to be released. Dark desire,” he murmured. “Mindless and selfish, the oldest of sins. It’s in all of us, but our true measure is whether we give in to it.”

James stared at him, eyes wet, lips trembling. 

“It took a drug that nearly killed us to unleash that darkness in us, James,” Robbie whispered. “You have to forgive yourself for that, pet. You have to forgive me.”

“I do forgive you,” James managed, and Robbie wrapped one strong arm around his shoulder and drew him close to his side. 

“And I forgive you,” Robbie murmured, and James shook and sobbed against him. “I forgive you, James.”

888

Robbie walked with James back upstairs and into his bedroom, letting him sit down on the side of the bed, and then sitting down next to him. Wordlessly Robbie took the hem of James’s thin sleep shirt and looked at him, waiting for the small nod before he tugged it over his head and tossed it aside. Robbie took in the marks already fading on James’s pale gold skin.

He studied James sitting in the dim light, his face pale, his eyes still swollen with tears. James wouldn’t make a move, Robbie knew that. He still felt as if he’d made all the moves when they’d been drugged, no matter how much Robbie tried to convince him otherwise.

This thing he was going to do, Robbie thought. Was it smart, was it wise? Was it healthy? Would it heal them or drive them further apart? How could he be sure?

In the end Robbie went with his heart, as he’d spoken from his heart out in the garden, when he’d forgiven them both. He leaned forward and once more laid a soft kiss on James’s collar bone, gently touching his tongue to the ruddy wound.

James’s hand came up and caught his shoulder and Robbie braced himself to be pushed away. But James just shaped his hand around it and held on. Encouraged, Robbie found another reddened patch and kissed it, tasting the fine golden skin, a little salt, a little sweet. 

“We can replace every hard touch with a soft one,” James murmured, and Robbie gently pushed him back onto the bed, his lips tracing down and finding a set of finger bruises on his ribs. “Every bruise with a kiss.” James sighed as Robbie blazed his own trail now, across to one flat, pink nipple. He arched up into the light suckle, his breath hitching. “Every bad memory with a good one.”

Robbie lifted his head and gazed at him in the darkness, needing James to give him a sign to follow. Eyes fixed on his, James took the band of his track pants and pushed it down an inch, exposing the beginning of the darkest, deepest bruises yet.

Robbie bit his lip as he saw them, flexing his fingers as he remembered gripping those narrow hips hard and fucking up into James’s tightness. This was supposed to be about tenderness and healing, but Robbie couldn’t suppress the thrum in his belly as his cock hardened at the memory.

Should he stop, should he pull away? How far should this go? Under the thin material of the track pants James’s cock was stirring, and the guilt in Robbie’s breast faded. 

That far then.

Well. Okay. 

“Replace every bruise with a kiss,” Robbie agreed, leaning over and pressing his lips to the prominent hip bones. He caught at the waist band of the sweats and tugged a little more, exposing the rise of James’s crotch, his hardness pressing against the worn fabric. “Do you want this?” Robbie said, looking up into James’s eyes.

In answer James covered Robbie’s hands and guided him as he pulled the waistband over his straining prick.

888

Robbie lay on his back, gazing up at the pale white wood of the ceiling. James was curled next to him, head on his shoulder, one hand playing with Robbie’s greying chest hair. “All right?” Robbie said, pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Are you?” James asked, typically enigmatic. 

“I asked first,” Robbie said, and then couldn’t help laughing. James tilted his head and looked up at him, face droll. “We must be crazy,” Robbie said, tightening his arm around James’s shoulder to show he wasn’t regretting anything. 

“It felt right,” James said. “It feels right.”

“And do you feel better?” Robbie said, rubbing his upper arm gently. “And don’t ask me if I feel better, because the answer is obvious. Yes, I do.”

James thought about it. “Yes,” he said finally. “I think that was the lowest I’ve been, out there alone in the dark. I think I started to feel better when you were there, and I wasn’t alone any more.”

Robbie hummed agreement. “For me it’s been like that from the beginning,” he mused. “And it might be hard for someone else to understand. But I just felt better about everything when I was with you.”

James smoothed a hand over Robbie’s chest, stroking idly down over his ribs. “I felt guilty,” he confessed. “Because I was glad you were with me. You were going through hell, but all I could think was what if I’d been with someone else that night? I can’t bear the thought that anyone but you might have seen me like that. Touched me like that.”

“Was inside you like that,” Robbie whispered, a bit possessively, and James buried his face in his side. Robbie could feel the warmth of his skin and he chuckled. “Are you blushing?” he said fondly. “After I just put my mouth on your-”

“Hush!” James said, pinching his ribs.

“And after you put your hand on me and-”

“Stop it,” James said, and put one hand over his mouth. Robbie deliberately licked a broad stripe on his palm and James’s face as he drew back gave him such a belly laugh he had to take James’s hand and try to lick it again as he drew away.

“Ew,” James was saying, laughing and twisting his hand out of Robbie’s grasp. “Gross!”

Collapsing back on the pillow, still chuckling, Robbie surveyed James sitting in the moonlight, rubbing his hand on the coverlet, his nose wrinkled up. So different from the weeping silent man in the darkness, so vibrant and alive again. “Ah, bonny lad,” Robbie sighed. “You better get over that squeamishness fast, if we’re going to keep sharing a bed.”

James’s face grew solemn, and Robbie’s felt his smile fading. “Is this to be it then?” he said softly, his heart starting to ache. “Just this one night?” 

James tilted his head and looked at him, his face somber. “I hope not,” he said, a bit uncertain, and Robbie couldn’t help his huge smile of relief, and then was glad of it as James relaxed and smiled in return. 

Robbie lifted his arm. “Come back?” he invited, and James tucked himself against him.

“I don’t care if it is crazy,” James said, and then he turned his face into Robbie’s side and fell asleep.

888

In the morning they were quiet, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet. They had cereal and James made Robbie tea, laying the mug on the table in front of him and dropping a kiss on his head.

Robbie felt his heart swell, and he smiled his way through his bowl of corn flakes. Afterwards they dosed PC with her medication and strolled around the little garden while she stretched her three good legs. 

“I have to call Laura,” Robbie said.

“What are you going to say to her?”

“Goodbye.”

888

They decided they’d lunch in the village at the pub, and Robbie could make his call from there, where the reception was better. “We could walk in?” Robbie suggested.

James looked at him doubtfully. “It’s a bit far.”

“I can do it,” Robbie said stubbornly.

“Maybe I can’t,” James said, equally stubborn. He affected a pathetic look. “Five stitches,” he said, turning down his mouth. 

Robbie nudged him. “Bone idle more like.”

“Let’s walk down the headland instead,” James suggested, nudging him back and then kind of just leaning against him. “Work up an appetite for lunch.”

Robbie loosely locked his hands in the small of James’s back and just held him for a while, as PC batted at a butterfly.

888

The walked down the rugged coastline, James stopping now and then to take a picture of the sea, or a pretty patch of heather, or a nodding wild flower. The wind was picking up and they stopped to rest in the sheltering lea of some bushes, sitting down on the tussocky grass and leaning against each other.

“James?” Robbie said thoughtfully. “I just realised something. We haven’t really kissed each other yet. “

James blinked at this. “Haven’t we?”

Robbie shook his head slowly, and James’s cheeks went a bit pink. “Oh lord, we haven’t, have we. Is it weird,” he breathed, “To be nervous of a kiss, after everything we’ve done?”

Robbie lifted one shoulder. “Obviously not,” he confessed. “I’m a bit nervous too.” He licked his lips, his heart speeding up as James dropped his gaze to his tongue tip. “Me first?” Robbie said, and James nodded.

Slowly, carefully, Robbie leaned forward, slanted his head, closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to James’s lips. He leaned back a few inches and opened his eyes. James still had his eyes closed, so Robbie gave in to the temptation to drop another light kiss on his lips, this time just stroking the bottom one with his tongue.

James’s breath caught, and he lifted a hand and shaped Robbie’s shoulder, in that way he had of touching him, inviting him, without pushing too hard. 

“You know,” James said breathily. “You actually have already kissed me.”

Robbie cupped his wind-chilled cheek with his hand. “Have I?”

“You kissed my shoulder,” James said.

Robbie smiled at the memory, and the way James again licked his lips. “That’s right,” he agreed solemnly. 

“You kissed my hip,” James went on, cheeks getting pinker.

“Hmm,” Robbie agreed.

“You kissed… some other places,” he said, and Robbie grinned in delight.

“And what are all these kissings worth?” Robbie said, grin fading to a loving smile. “If thou kissed not me?” And James smiled, his lovely, gentle, rare smile, and kissed Robbie back.

888

“Laura?”

“Robbie, thank god,” Laura breathed, and then almost immediately. “I’m so angry at you!”

“I don’t blame you,” Robbie said. 

More breathing down the line. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Laura. We’re both fine.”

“You’re still with James then?”

“Of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated. “Why of course, Robbie? That’s what I don’t understand. I know you two went through something awful together, but this… obsession you have for being with him since that night. I just don’t get it.”

“I know,” Robbie said. “That’s why we left, I think. We were trying to make sense of the whole thing, and we couldn’t do that and justify our methods to everyone else.”

Laura seemed to be thinking about this, and Robbie let the silence stretch out. “Where are you?” Laura finally asked.

“Come on,” Robbie chuckled. “You can’t tell me Jean Innocent didn’t track our credit cards. Or that she didn’t tell you we were in Scotland.”

“Well,” Laura said. “Only because we were both frantic about you. Skipping your hospital appointment like that. It’s important you get checked out, Robbie.”

“We’re fine,” Robbie said gently. 

“Running away without a word to anyone.”

“We texted. And James assures me we weren’t running away. Maybe running towards,” he said thoughtfully.

“Towards what?”

“Acceptance. Healing.”

Another silence. “When are you coming home?”

Robbie rubbed at his eye, his heart aching at the pain in her voice. “We’re not,” he said gently. “Not any time soon. James will write Innocent to put in his papers. No doubt she’ll put him on unpaid leave, hoping he’ll change his mind.”

“James is quitting the force?”

“Yes. And I won’t be accepting another contract, even if Innocent was inclined to offer one.”

“Of course she would,” Laura said fiercely. “She’s four officers down, Robbie, and the whole station is in bits. Of course your jobs are waiting for you whenever you’re ready to come back to them.”

Robbie looked up at the blue, blue sky. “That’s good to hear,” he said a bit hoarsely. “But right now I can’t see that happening. We’re not even coming back for our stuff. We’re arranging for our flats to be packed up and our gear put in storage.”

“Jesus, Robbie,” Laura said. “And you wonder why we’re frantic with worry. What are you two planning?”

“We’re going travelling,” Robbie said. “See the country. Maybe trade the sedan for a van. Follow the coastline. Being by the sea… helps. Clears the mind.”

Laura was crying now, Robbie could hear her and tears prickled his eyes. “I’m sorry, love,” he murmured. “Not about the flat or the job. I’m sorry about us. Doing this to you over the phone.”

“Then come home,” Laura demanded. “Let me see that you’re all right.”

Robbie looked down the road to where James was emerging from a store. The wide, winding street was lined with shops and a pub, and a few people were walking along with shopping baskets, dogs on leashes trotting next to them. 

“We’ll send you a postcard,” he promised. “James is starting a blog for Princess Calliope called The Travelling Cat.”

“Robbie,” Laura said helplessly. 

“We just need our own little world right now, Laura,” Robbie said. “Maybe we’ll be home in a month, maybe six. But right now this is how we’re getting through. Please try to understand.”

“At least you still call Oxford home,” Laura said, sniffing. “I… I won’t wait for you, Robbie. I’ve done that enough.”

Robbie rubbed at the ache in his chest. “Aye,” he said softly. “You have.”

888

James strolled up, hands in his pockets, and Robbie felt his heart ease at the smooth lines of his face, even though his eyes were a bit worried. “All right?” he asked.

Robbie smiled with all the healing joy in his heart, and instantly the worry in James’s eyes eased and he smiled back. “Just fine,” Robbie said.

888

Their new intimacy was very tender and almost innocent at first. They would nestle against one another on the couch, or on their beach blanket in the shade. Sometimes Robbie would take James’s hand and just hold it, stroking his fingers, tracing the lines and tendons. James would half smile and lean his head on Robbie’s shoulder with a contented sigh.

Many nights they did no more than cuddle, or spoon, Robbie behind James, their hands linked on his flat belly. Still wary of initiating contact, James might wake up hard, but would always wait for Robbie reach out and whisper in his ear before he would nod shyly and turn in his arms.

It worked for Robbie for the moment, being in charge, although he hoped that one day James would trust himself enough to just reach out and ask for what he wanted.

In bed they limited themselves to hands and lips, but it didn’t feel like a limitation as they explored each other beneath the covers in their own little world. Robbie discovered the delights of smooth firm skin, tiny pink nipples, that line of pelvic musculature so different from a woman’s softer belly. And of course James’s long, pretty pink cock.

And James was bold enough to run a line of gentle, suckling kisses down Robbie’s throat, to his shy nipples, a heretofore unknown erogenous zone on a man who’d been married for twenty years. Nuzzling his soft tummy, and laying his head on the rise and fall of Robbie’s belly as he stroked and played with the shorter, thicker cock.

Neither was inclined to even talk about going further, content for the moment to take things slowly in their own little world. This new world that they were creating.

“Our own little world,” James repeated sleepily, when Robbie finally told him what he’d said to Laura that day. They were in a caravan on the Irish coast, PC sprawled at the foot of their bed, her now healed leg twitching as she dreamed about stalking seagulls along the shore. “That is what it feels like. Reality is very far away.”

“We’ll get back to it again,” Robbie declared contentedly. “When we’re ready.”

“So long as we don’t let go of this,” James said, tugging Robbie closer. “Transition be damned, I am not letting you go now.”

Robbie smiled, a little of the worry he carried in his heart easing at James’s firm insistence. “Darn right,” he agreed.

Epilogue

Lizzie pulled her coat up around her ears and wished she could remember where she’d left her scarf. She was a demon with the things, always leaving them in cafes or in the car. The wicked December wind blew down the street and she shivered, longing for the warmth of home. Just one more gift to buy, and then Christmas was sorted.

It was while she was gazing into a shop window, wondering if she could afford a new phone for Tony, when she saw Lewis’s reflection. She spun, gasping, to see him smiling at her from under a black wooly cap, a scarf wrapped around his throat.

“Hi, Lizzy,” he said, and grinned.

“Sir,” she gasped, and impulsively flung her arms around him. It had been nearly eighteen months since she’d seen him, since the world changed forever, since she’d lost her two bosses, two of the best blokes she’d ever worked with.

Memory came back and she made to pull away, appalled at her own thoughtlessness, but Lewis was returning her hug, huffing a laugh against her wind chilled cheek. “You’re freezing, lass,” he exclaimed. He pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around her as she stepped back, and she let him, studying his cheerful smiling face as he carefully tucked it into her coat.

“Sir,” she said again. “You look… wonderful.”

“Aye,” he said, contentedly. “I’m getting there. Fancy a hot drink, get in out of this breeze?”

“Only a northerner would call this a breeze,” she said, following him across the road to a cosy café on the corner. They settled into a table at the back, and she opened the scarf up and enjoyed the warmth coming off a big stainless steel heater by the wall.

“Two coffees,” Robbie said to the waitress, with a nod at Lizzie, and she nodded back.

“I had no idea you were back in Oxford, sir,” she said, tugging off her cap as the warmth did its job. 

“Just call me Robbie,” Lewis said, pulling off his gloves and his own cap, and smoothing down his hair. “I’m not your superior officer any more.”

“You’re missed, sir,” Lizzie said. “Robbie, I mean. You and Inspector Hathaway.”

“James,” Lewis said with a smile. “He’s not your DI any more either.”

Lizzie smiled up at the waitress as she deposited their coffees on the table, and busied herself adding a sugar. “So you’re not coming back to work then?” she asked tentatively.

“No, we’ve left all that behind us,” he said, adding sugar and milk to his brew. “And how is Tony? Jean kept me informed as to his recovery, but I haven’t spoken to her for a while.”

Lizzie smiled. “He’s fine, made a full recovery. We, er, we kind of came to some big decisions when Tony was in hospital. He’d been offered work overseas and he’d been considering it, leaving me here in Oxford. But after… what happened. After nearly losing him.” Lizzie looked at Lewis in concern. “I’m sorry I never got to see you in hospital, sir,” she said. “I was so worried about Tony.”

Lewis shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It was a bad time for all of us. James and I wouldn’t have been fit company ourselves, back then.”

Lizzie bit her lip. “In truth, I didn’t know what I would have said to you anyway,” she admitted, feeling ashamed of herself. “It was such a devastating time. You heard about Alan Peterson?”

Lewis nodded soberly. “I heard he’d passed away. “We were very sorry to hear it.”

“He refused to go on the donor list to get a new kidney,” Lizzie said sadly. 

“Jean told me Julie is back at school in London?”

Lizzie gave a half smile. “Yes, she’s going for a degree. She… she never came back to Oxford either.”

Lewis sipped his coffee and Lizzie tried to think of a way to ask him if he was okay. If Hathaway was okay. The rumour mill had gone mad after that terrible weekend, and by the time she’d got back to work most of the facts were pretty well known. Peterson had raped and beaten Julie Lockhart, and Lewis and Hathaway had attacked each other. The speculation was that the attacks were sexual in nature, but no one knew the details. The records had been sealed, which led most people to believe the facts of the incident had been suppressed to protect the two men involved.

Lizzie didn’t care to speculate on the salacious details, she just knew she’d lost her bosses.

“But you didn’t finish your story about Tony,” Lewis prompted. 

“Oh, yes.” Lizzie brightened. “Well, after nearly losing each other, we decided that there were more important things than rises or promotions. Tony decided to stay here. We just didn’t want to be apart.”

Lewis smiled gently at her. “I’m glad,” he said.

Lizzie sipped her coffee. “We’ve all been following your blog,” she recalled, and Lewis laughed. 

“James’s blog,” he clarified. “It’s all his own work.”

“Who knew he had such a dry sense of humour,” Lizzie smirked. “Or that he’s such an imaginative writer. Every time there’s an update it’s the only topic of discussion in the canteen. How is Princess Calliope anyway?”

Robbie wrapped his hands around his mug, laughing across at her, and she was struck by how much younger and well rested he looked. Her eye caught on a gleaming gold ring and she tilted her head. “Did you always wear a wedding ring?” 

Robbie looked down at the ring, rubbing his thumb on the smooth, shiny surface. “Only since I got married again.”

Lizzie gaped at him, she literally felt herself gaping. “You, what?”

“As soon as we could after it was legalised,” Robbie said, and she felt him watching her as that sunk in.

“No,” she said.

“Yep.”

“You and…”

“James,” Robbie finished helpfully. “Yep.”

“No,” she breathed, but it wasn’t so much in denial now as complete shock. “Wow,” she said, aware of his stupid she sounded. “You and James Hathaway? Married? Wow.”

“We kept it pretty low key,” Robbie said comfortably. “Just my daughter and her man, and my grandson as ring bearer.” He smiled reminiscently. “It was a lovely day.”

Lizzie felt her heart melt at his obvious happiness. “Well, congratulations,” she said, a bit belatedly. “I’m thrilled for you both.” She was dying to ask if they’d been together before the incident, but suddenly decided it didn’t matter. Out of that terrible time when lives had been broken and lost, when the Oxfordshire police had been devastated by the hole four fine officers had left in their midst, something good had come. 

No, two good things, she thought. Her and Tony, stronger than ever, and now Lewis and Hathaway. Robbie and James, together.

“Will you be in town long? I know Tony would love to see you.”

“Matter of fact,” Robbie said. “We are planning on staying. James has been offered a junior fellowship in theology, and I’m helping him out with some volunteer work at a church he used to be involved with. So you’ll have the chance to see us around for a while yet.”

“That’s great,” Lizzie said, meaning it. She was dying to hear all about their adventures, and to see the two men together, James hopefully as happy as Robbie. “So the Travelling Cat will travel no more?”

Robbie twinkled a grin. “She won’t mind stopping still for a while. Listen, what do you and Tony have planned for dinner? Fancy a meal, the four of us? You can catch us up with what’s changed in Oxford while we’ve been away.”

Lizzie smiled into his happy, contented face, her heart warm and full. “Sounds perfect.”

The End


End file.
